


As Subtle As A Train Wreck

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, And Thomas Jefferson Is Not Nearly As Subtle As He Thinks He Is, Coffee Shops, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Lafayette, James Madison Is Oblivious, M/M, Pining, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5707714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things keep appearing out of nowhere: cereal bars when he hasn't had breakfast, steaming hot coffee when he's running on four hours of sleep, aspirin when he's got a headache. </p><p>James isn't complaining but it'd be nice to know who it is.</p><p>Everyone else thinks he's an oblivious idiot. (After all, it's not like Thomas Jefferson ever mastered the art of subtlety)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugghhh I'm meant to be writing the next chapter for my genderfluid!Laf fic but I have no idea how I ended up here. It was supposed to be a one-shot, just a little drabble to get my creative juices flowing so I could get past the writer's block I've been facing but... then this happened. Enjoy, I guess?

 James was exhausted. He was sitting at his desk, surrounded by loose papers, thick books and, in front of him, his laptop. He hadn't slept all night and yet the assignment was far from finished. A quick glance at his phone screen told him it was now half past eight. 

"Are you not going to breakfast?" a voice behind him asked and James turned around slightly to see his roommate, Lafayette, watching him concernedly. 

"I need to finish this," he said instead of replying, a grimace twisting his lips. Lafayette shrugged, slipping on their jacket.

"Well, I'm going to eat," Lafayette said. "Want me to get you anything, mon ami?" 

James shook his head but shot the Frenchperson a grateful smile. He wouldn't consider Lafayette a close friend and the two of them rarely spoke more than the polite conversation when their paths crossed. Perhaps, if it had been someone he knew better, he would have taken them up on the offer, but he wouldn't subject Lafayette on the long trek from the dining hall to their room. 

Lafayette nodded in acknowledgement and left the room. Silence reigned.

James continued to work on his assignment, eyes not wavering from the laptop screen. He was on a roll - the words were flowing from his mind through his fingertips, he knew what he was going to say long before he typed it out, his fingers were a blur as they flew over the keys-

A knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. James jumped, knocking several papers to the floor. Perhaps Lafayette was back, he mused. But Lafayette had their own key and besides, the knock was far too obnoxious to be Lafayette.

Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked again and this time, they seemed more impatient. With a sigh, James got up to open the door, fully expecting to see one of Lafayette's boyfriends - maybe the freckled Latino, or the loud-mouthed orphan genius, or the dark-skinned male who had a history of bar fights to rival even the loud-mouthed genius.

He swung the door open and froze.

It was none of Lafayette's friends, or at least, none that James knew. Instead there stood a bored-looking male with a dark corkscrew curls and a lithe body that he clearly had no problem showing off, according to the sinfully tight jeans and... was that a silk shirt? 

He was kind of beautiful.

James gaped for a second before snapping back to reality. Suddenly, he felt under-dressed in his white t-shirt and sweatpants, which was  _ridiculous_ because who even wore silk shirts,  _Jesus Christ-_

"I was looking for Lafayette," the male said, raising a sharp eyebrow. "You wouldn't happen to know where they are right now?" 

"Uh," James said, cursing his eloquence, or lack thereof. "They said they were going to get breakfast."

The man hummed, looking not at all disappointed to find that Lafayette had gone. Instead, his gaze swept over James' form, who suppressed the urge to fidget. Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Finally, James snapped.

"Can I help you?" he asked, mustering up a polite smile from somewhere.

The man shrugged. "Possibly. Mind if I come in?"

James wasn't given a chance to answer as the stranger slipped past James and entered the room, looking around for a second before walking over to the desk James had been working on and perching himself delicately on the edge of the desk.

"What are you working on?" the stranger asked, head tilted so that his curls fell to the side of his face. James sat down at the chair heavily, fighting not to frown up at the taller male.

"Anglo-French relations," he said shortly. "Who are you?"

The stranger looked distinctly put-out at his bluntness, bottom lip sticking out slightly to pout. James did not want to suck on that bottom lip and bite it until it was swollen and pink.  _He did not._

"Thomas," the stranger said finally. "Thomas Jefferson. And you are?" 

James hesitated. He wasn't obligated to tell Thomas his name and he felt vaguely annoyed by this complete stranger walking in and sitting on his desk like he owned it.

"James Madison," James told him reluctantly, turning to face his laptop once more. He had lost his train of thought with the distraction and the words were no longer flowing as smoothly as before. He huffed out a small breath but found that he wasn't as irritated as he should have been. 

"Lafayette's off to get breakfast, but what about you?" Thomas asked, crossing one leg over the other. This, unfortunately, meant that his leg, tightly encased in denim, was dangerously close to brushing James, who doubted he'd be able to not embarrass himself if that happened. "You look like you've done an all-nighter." 

"Is it that obvious?" James muttered, rubbing his face warily as he pulled one of the books closer towards him.

Thomas shrugged - even a gesture as simple as shrugging was elegant and graceful when Thomas Jefferson was the one doing it - and crossed his arms. "Not to the untrained eye."

James considered asking what Thomas meant by that but decided that, ultimately, the man was bad enough when not being encouraged and he had an assignment to finish, regardless of how gorgeous Thomas was with his stupid silk shirt and tight jeans that had probably been stitched onto him.

For the best part, he managed to ignore Thomas, focusing instead on his assignment. He was almost done, he could probably finish it within the hour if he continued at this pace.

"Isn't that supposed to say '1559'?" Thomas interrupted, squinting at the computer screen. James froze, scanning the page in bewilderment until a long, slender finger pointed at screen. "The Italian Wars ended in 1559, not 1669." 

James swore under his breath, correcting the mistake hurriedly. Thomas' hand rested lightly on the top of the screen. 

"Thanks," James said finally, looking up at Thomas as a grin stretched across his lips, displaying perfect white teeth. James found himself surprised - so far, Thomas had only expressed boredom and a sort of lazy intrigue. 

"You're welcome," Thomas purred and James repressed a shiver, willing his heartbeat to return to normal as he registered just how close Thomas was sitting to him. If he moved an inch, his arm would brush against Thomas' thigh next to the laptop and dear heavens, those were some lovely thighs-

"I should be going," Thomas said, sighing dramatically and slipping off the desk. James was startled out of his thoughts. "It's been a pleasure, James. I daresay we'll meet again." 

And with that, he was out of the room before James' could even process his words.

He stared at the door for a moment, swept away slightly by the whirlwind that was Thomas Jefferson, before shaking himself together and continuing writing. Thomas was definitely something, and James resolved to keep his eye on the man throughout the year. Whether out of curiosity or something a little less innocent... well, James was avoiding that train of thought.

It wasn't until three quarters of an hour later, when he was putting the finishing touches to the conclusion, that he noticed two breakfast bars and a small yoghurt drink on the desk that he hadn't seen before. It was exactly where Thomas was sitting before. Perhaps that was why he hadn't noticed it until now, James mused. Lafayette had probably left it for him before they went.

Lafayette returned half an hour after Thomas left, hand in hand with one of their boyfriends. It was the freckled one this time, Lawrence or Lauren or something similar. 

"One of your friends came by," James told them. "Thomas Jefferson." 

The boyfriend wrinkled his nose in clear disdain and Lafayette swatted at his shoulder playfully. 

"Of course," they replied warmly. "He didn't cause you any trouble, did he? I understand that he can be, how you say, a bit of a handful?"

"Stop with the 'how you say' thing," the boyfriend said, rolling his eyes and throwing himself onto Lafayette's bed.  "Your English is as good as a native's."

"He wasn't too bothersome," James reassured, turning back to his desk to gather up his books and papers. He was finally done and was hoping to catch some sleep before his lecture at three in the afternoon with Washington. "And thanks for the food."

He had his back to Lafayette and so didn't see the confused look that graced their features or the way that they mouthed 'food?' bewilderedly to their boyfriend.

And when James finally sent off the assignment and crawled beneath the blankets to finally sleep, he dreamt of slender fingers and corkscrew curls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is Daveed so gorgeous wtf
> 
> I'm on tumblr, hit me up, sin with me, join me in my den of trash and worthlessness at lafayettes-baguette (a+ marketing)


	2. Chapter 2

James gingerly massaged his temples, suppressing a sigh.

 He was sitting alone in a small coffee shop, nursing a black coffee that had gone cold ten minutes ago as he attempted to read through an article. He had been waiting on a guy called John Jay and, when he didn't appear, had pulled out his laptop to catch up on his work. Jay had already ditched the last meeting James had organised for their group and was twenty minutes late for the private catch-up James had suggested.

 

"Headache?" a familiar voice behind him asked, a voice that brought forth mental images of silk shirts. 

"Understatement of the century," James muttered, finally looking away from the article. The brightness of the laptop screen wasn't helping the painful thumping in his head.

Thomas gave him a vaguely sympathetic look before his usual smirk settled on his face again. He wasn't wearing a silk shirt today, but the jeans were as tight as ever. It looked good, unfairly good, but Thomas was insufferable enough without ego-stroking and so James was  _definitely_ not mentioning that any time soon.

"Mind if I sit with you?" he drawled. James was just about to refuse when, without waiting for a reply, Thomas slid gracefully into the seat opposite and reached over to press the power button of the laptop. James watched blankly as the screen turned black.

"What...?"

"Electronic devices with bright screens aren't the best cure for migraines," Thomas sniffed, pursing his lips. "I recommend herbal tea, lots of rest, drink water and eat celery."

"Yes, mum," James mumbled under his breath, checking his watch. Jay was now half an hour late. Perhaps he should just leave.

He looked up and found Thomas staring at him unabashed, still smirking. James stared back, unwilling to back down from this... challenge. Was this a challenge? Probably not but even so.

Thomas' eyes were really pretty, he thought to himself distractedly. And his lips were nice too... plump and full, the type that you  _know_  from first sight that they're amazing to kiss.

Wait, why the hell was he staring at Thomas' lips?

A minute later and James' resolve crumbled. He glanced away, fiddling with his coffee cup and scowling. Competition or not, he felt as though he had lost.

"Who are you waiting for?" Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked smug, the bastard. James frowned.

"How do you know I'm waiting for someone?" he shot back and Thomas snorted, pushing a stray strand of hair away from his face. 

"You keep checking your watch," Thomas pointed out in a tone that made James feel as though he was stupid. "And you look annoyed about being here."

James didn't dignify that with an answer. Instead, he began to return the papers, book and his laptop to his bag, prepared to leave. He wasn't willing to wait any longer for Jay and his migraine made it impossible to read. He'd go back to the dorm and sleep a little before making another attempt at his work.

"Leaving so soon?" Thomas pouted, watching him with his chin rested on his hand. James tried extremely hard not to stare at Thomas' lips. Needless to say, he failed. 

"'So soon'?" he repeated incredulously, gaze snapping away from plump, pouty lips when Thomas' words finally processed. "I've been here for half an hour!"

"But you've only been sitting with me for a few minutes," Thomas sighed dramatically, leaning back in the chair as though that simple movement was too much effort for him.

The man looked beyond spoiled, with his smooth, callus-free hands that spoke of a life with little hardships, his perfect clear skin that he probably used gallons of skin products on, the designer jeans that probably cost more than the average car, and why the hell did his blazer have a fur collar?

"Why the hell does your blazer have a fur collar?" James asked. It came out as more curious than he intended - he had been going for rude.

Thomas looked offended. Like, extremely offended. He didn't even have the right to look that offended because it was an honest question. "It's called  _fashion_. Perhaps you would like to get with it at some point?" 

James rolled his eyes but winced because  _ow_ , that was not a good idea when you have a migraine. 

But the blazer itself wasn't too bad - black and figure-hugging (a common theme in Thomas' closet, apparently) and even the fur was dark and sleek. It looked good. But James wasn't admitting that.

Now it was Thomas who was checking his watch. "I'm afraid I have somewhere to be," Thomas informed him gravely and he looked a little disappointed that their time was cut short.

For some reason,  _James_ was finding himself disappointed that their barely-civil conversation was over too. That was... strange.

"Until another time,  _mon ami_ ," Thomas cooed as though speaking to a child, tapping James' nose before slipping out his seat and leaving the coffee shop before James had time to complain about the child-like treatment. 

James did  _not_ stare at Thomas' ass as he left. (But if he did, it was only to admire how difficult it must have been to fit in those jeans. Obviously.)

Was Thomas even French? 

James took a small sip of his coffee and wrinkled his nose. Maybe he should buy a tea. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt and Thomas seemed pretty confident in his recommendation for herbal teas. Maybe he should ask the guy which herbal tea would be best. 

Or maybe he should just go back to his dorm and sleep until he forgot all his problems in life. It sounded appealing. 

In the end, the dorm-and-sleep option won out and James found himself stuffing his remaining papers into his satchel bag. However, as he did so, several tea bags fell out from between the sheets. James frowned. He never used tea-bags and Lafayette was more of a fan of the Starbucks sugar concoctions that he called coffee than tea. He didn't know  _anyone_ in his friendship groups who drank tea. Where the hell did it come from? 

He shrugged. Whoever it was, it was their loss. Maybe James would try it when he went back to his dorm. He had no idea if it was herbal but it was worth a shot.

As he stood up and paid for his coffee, a neatly-folded note fell onto the floor. James didn't notice.

* * *

He tried one of the tea-bags. They _were_ herbal. Ginger and lemon, according to Lafayette. It was surprisingly nice and the burn down his throat was rather pleasant. He found himself carefully storing the remaining tea-bags away and considering buying ginger and lemon tea-bags.

"How did you even know it was ginger and lemon?" he asked Lafayette as he took another delicate sip. 

Lafayette shrugged nonchalantly but the glint in their eye made James pause. Despite looking like an angel who would never even consider doing anyone harm, James knew exactly how dangerous they could be. 

"Thomas drinks it quite often," they said casually and they hid their smirk behind a mug full of too-sweet coffee. 

James nodded. What a coincidence.

* * *

The next day, James' head no longer felt as though it was going to split apart, though he still found himself swallowing a tablet as he winced at any loud noise Lafayette made. He had no idea if the reason for the improvement the tea, but regardless, he brewed another cup before writing one of his essays and then going to his first lecture of the day at eleven in the morning.

"Sit at the back of the lecture hall," Lafayette told him as James was about to leave.

He paused at the doorway for a moment, confused. How did Lafayette know that James always sat near the front? And why would he sit at the back?

"Why?" 

Lafayette gave him a knowing smile. "Just. Five rows from the very back. You'll appreciate it." 

James opened his mouth to question them further but he was already running late. So with a confused - and slightly suspicious - glance, he left the dorm and walked briskly to the lecture hall. He had no idea what Lafayette was up to and he wasn't sure he even wanted to know.

When he got to the lecture hall, he sat five rows from the very back.

People filed in slowly and, soon, James forgot about the difference seating and was drawn into a world politics and international relations. His hand felt heavy and his head was still thumping painfully and the lecturers voice was almost soothing. James' eyes fluttered shut and he couldn't find the energy to open them again.

Within minutes, he had fallen asleep.

It felt as though he had only shut his eyes for ten minutes at most but it was an hour later when the sound of cluttering and chatter woke him. He blinked blearily, lifting his head from the table to see that the lecture hall was emptying out, students filing out quickly. He groaned. He barely had any notes.

He sat up quickly, already considering who to ask for notes. There was no need: In front of him, someone had laid down several sheets scrawled with notes in small, square handwriting. Next to it was a blister packet of tablets and a bottle of water. 

Was someone... trying to drug him? Because there were more effective (and subtle) ways than simply placing a pack of tablets in front of him. He picked up the blister packet and, turning it over, read the words 'Acetaminophen'. 

James sighed in relief. He had no idea who had put it there but whoever it was, James was willing to get down on one knee and propose. He wasn't particularly close to anyone he was in that lecture with but they were currently his saviour. He popped the tablet out of the packet and placed it carefully in his mouth before opening his own bottle of water - no  _way_ was he going to trust the already open bottle that had been placed in front of him.

Silently thanking whichever deity was listening, James carefully folded the notes and placed them in his bag.

Before heading back to his dorm, he made a detour to the several shops in search of ginger and lemon teabags. 

 

* * *

"Did you sit at the back?" Lafayette asked gleefully the moment James entered the dorm. They was sprawled across one of their boyfriend's laps — the Bar-Fight-Picker™— and The Freckled Latino™ was sitting crosslegged by the headboard. Loud-Mouthed Orphan Genius™ was on the floor with a blanket wrapped around him, with only his head peeking out to squint at his laptop and the hands he was using to type.

"Uh, yeah, I did," James replied, confused. 

"Did you see it?" Lafayette prompted.

James blinked. "I fell asleep in the lecture. I didn't notice anything." 

Lafayette sighed heavily, looking more than slightly exasperated. Bar-Fight-Picker™, although clearly having no idea what was going on, patted their shoulder consolingly and Lafayette twisted slightly to capture his lips in a kiss.

James left quickly before it escalated into an orgy before his very eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed Laf to genderfluid and using they/them pronouns and there are a couple of other minor changes in the last chapter, but it's nothing too obvious. I have no idea when the next chapter is gonna be up.
> 
> THE BLAZER THAT JEFFERSON'S WEARING IN THE COFFEE SHOP. I saw an amazing blazer that was something Jefferson would wear on a pretty much regular basis but I can't find it now... This is the closest thing I can find: http://g02.a.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1TvRBLXXXXXbXXXXXq6xXFXXXc.jpg


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay angelica

There was a rose on the floor.

James stared at it for a moment, puzzled. Perhaps someone had sent it to Lafayette; the French student was rather popular with people of all genders and this wasn’t been the first time James had caught them being wooed by strangers. James’ thoughts flickered back to the time when someone had broken into their apartment to serenade Lafayette in the middle of the night. It had been terrifying and beyond disturbing at the time, but James could help but snort now that he looked back at it.

But Lafayette had just left for a road trip for the weekend with their boyfriends. After a moment of consideration, he picked up the rose, meaning to leave it on Lafayette’s bed when a small piece of paper fell from the between the red petals.

James hesitated.

It was probably an invasion of privacy if James read the note, but Lafayette often confided in him with matters, especially when it was concerning one of their boyfriends (though this was usually because Lafayette didn’t truly care about James’ opinion of them and thus was unbothered if they were judged; that and the fact that James still didn’t know all their names). Exactly how upset would they be if James read it?

Shrugging off any moral inclinations, James picked the paper up, unfolded it, and began to read the small, neat square handwriting that filled it from corner to corner.

‘ _Your eyes shine brighter than any star,_

_I wish I had the courage,_

_To stop watching from afar,_

_And tell you how beautiful you truly are.’_

James raised an eyebrow. Whoever this was, they had it _bad_. He felt vaguely sorry for the sender, choosing to send such a lovely note at such an inconvenient time. Lafayette wouldn’t see this for a while. Their efforts were wasted.

The poem was quite nice though. He reread it again. It wasn’t professional; the first and last lines were clearly meant to be similar but the last line was too long. And it would have sounded better if the middle two lines were a little shorter. But it was sweet nonetheless.

For the first time, James envied Lafayette.

He shrugged the feeling off. It was irrational, to be jealous that Lafayette had won the affections of a complete stranger. It wasn’t like James had any right to be jealous. But as he began to search for a vase to keep the rose in, he wished that, just once, someone could woo him like that.

Not that he had time for such games, he quickly thought to himself. He was busy enough, trying desperately to keep his head above water with his exams and papers and billions of other commitments.

Still.

The handwriting was strangely familiar. James could have  _sworn_ he saw that same handwriting somewhere else.

He couldn’t find a vase small enough to carry a flower and, feeling more sorrowful than he had any right to, he placed the rose on the windowsill, waiting for it to die.

* * *

The next day, someone was knocking on the door.

James didn’t have many friends. He didn’t have the time or dedication needed for socialising and found that it was easier to remain alone that face the constant disappointments and fights that came with relationships, whether platonic or romantic. So when he opened the door, he assumed, sensibly, that someone was looking for Lafayette.

Sure enough, there was a (albeit familiar-looking) stranger standing outside the door, holding another rose, he simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow and began to say, “Lafayette’s not here right no-”

“I’m not looking for Lafayette,” the girl cut in smoothly. Her smirk looked _wicked_ , like she knew something about James that even he didn’t know, and was willing to tell everyone that one tidbit of information.

She held the bouquet out with slender, outstretched arms. She was still smirking and James found it rather unnerving. Terrifying, actually, not that he was going to admit it.

“I can give these to them when they return?” James offered, hesitantly taking the bouquet and carefully holding it as far away as possible. A single rose was one thing, but an entire bouquet would probably set off his hay fever.

“It’s not for Lafayette,” the girl said, sounding impatient now. “It’s for you. But I can’t say who it’s from.”

James snorted. “Um, sure. Okay. Well, thank you, and I’m sorry you got caught up in this prank.”

The girl’s face dropped and, where she was previously smirking playfully, she now glared. If James had thought she was terrifying before, it was _nothing_ compared to now. Her gaze was so cold it felt as though the air in his lungs had turned to ice. Her lips pursed tightly as she crossed her arms, eyes dripping with animosity.

“ _Excuse me_?”

James blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“What do you mean by ‘prank’?” the girl pushed, stepping into the dorm. James didn’t remember inviting her. In fact, he specifically did _not_ invite her. Somehow, that didn’t matter.

“I, uh,” James began, glancing away nervously. Cornered in his own home… Well, as much as a home as this dorm could be. His eyes fixated on the covers of his bed instead of looking at the now-furious girl. What the hell had pissed her off so quickly?

“This is no prank,” she began, stepping closer to James, ever so slowly. Like a lioness who had just rendered their prey unable to walk and stalking it with a confidence that only came from knowing that your victim could not escape. “He _loves_ you, and you’re calling it a ‘prank’? He’s throwing away his pride and dignity, and god knows how difficult that must be for someone as bigheaded as he is!”

She ended on a sharp, indignant note. James vaguely felt the need to apologise, even if he wasn’t sure what he was apologising for.

“Um, no offense,” he began carefully, trying not to show weakness and take a step back. That lasted for all of ten seconds when the girl took another step towards him, reflexively making him scramble backwards. “But what the hell are you on about?”

The girl had him backed against a wall now, their faces mere inches apart. James wished he could look a little less terrified, but honestly didn’t think he was capable of rearranging his facial expressions.

“He loves you,” she hissed.

And with that, she turned around and stalked out of the dorm, slamming the door shut behind her.

James collapsed to the floor, tilting his head back until it hit the wall with a dull thump. He still hadn’t managed to process what had happened. He felt a little lost and, in that moment, wouldn’t have minded having a teddy bear or a pillow to cuddle. Anything to make him feel less like he had just woken up from a nightmare, sweat-soaked and breathless with fear.

That girl was _terrifying_.

And, more importantly, the bouquet was for him. Well, apparently. The girl had _said_ it wasn’t a prank but James didn’t know anyone that was even remotely interested in him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a prank; it was the sort of thing he had spent the entire of middle and high school suffering through.

After a few minutes, in which he gathered his thoughts and managed to regain his breath, he stood up and picked up the bouquet again. It was pretty, he was willing to admit. Red roses, pink roses and white roses, tied together beautifully with a red sash. He buried his nose in them, drinking in the smell of sweetness and imagining what it would be like if someone, anyone, was actually interested in him.

Three seconds later, he had a sneezing fit. Damn hay fever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TOMMY WROTE YOUR NOTES IN THAT HANDWRITING, DUMBASS, THAT'S WHY IT LOOKS FAMILIAR also, i'm no poet, don't judge my poems
> 
> no tommy in this one, unfortunately, but in the next chapter, we'll definitely be having more interaction between the two of them
> 
> also, i know i haven't updated in almost two months and a bunch of you kept telling me that you wanted another chapter, i'm /sorry/ i honestly didn't mean to postpone it so much okay
> 
> my tumblr is [lafayettes-baguette](http://www.lafayettes-baguette.tumblr.com)


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